


taking flight

by mayathewriter



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Crownguard to Captain to Queen, F/M, Getting Together, Learning to Fight, Pre-Canon, Strangers to Lovers, Wakes & Funerals, callum and his bio dad are there too but briefly, idk what else to tag this as?, well more like aquaintances to friends to lovers but u get the gist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 14:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18316754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayathewriter/pseuds/mayathewriter
Summary: a guard and her prince





	taking flight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lightningstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningstars/gifts).



> kc, a gem, the light of my life, happy birthday 💞 i love you and hope u can forgive me for finishing this three weeks late lmao

_“sarai… what are you saying?”_

* * *

 It was one of those perfect autumn days, with a bright sun and air with only the beginning harshness of winter. The trees that lined the cemetery were painted with beautiful reds and oranges, leaves singing against the wind that rustled them.

Sarai hated it.

Hated it because that was the kind of day he had loved. The kind that made you want to spend all day outside before returning home to a blanket and a book and a warm home and heart.

It was the kind of day he would’ve liked to be buried on, at least.

The casket was being lowered into the earth when Callum came up to her, too young to know what was happening but knowing whatever it was made her sad. He offered her a brightly colored leaf, a warm orange blazed with red, and Sarai could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again. “Thank you, sweetie,” she murmured, voice breaking, giving her son a watery smile. He smiled back, lurching forward to wrap a hug around her knees before running off to where he was playing earlier.

“He’s going to make a good man someday.”

Sarai jumped, wiping hastily at her eyes before turning to face the unexpected guest. She stiffened as soon as she saw who it was, saluting more out of instinct than anything else. “My prince,” she said, her voice rough with grief. “I apologize, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“At ease, Sarai,” he said kindly. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m not here as a prince, but as a friend.”

Harrow looked at the fresh grave, frown lines creasing around his mouth. “He saved my life during the attack. Saw the arrow and pushed me out of the way before anyone else could react and… I… I cannot help but feel…”

“He knew the risks when he agreed to join to Crownguard, your Highness,” she said, shoulders slumping. “I did as well. It hurts, but you should hold no guilt.”

“Of course,” he said, but the prince did not sound appeased. A thick, uncomfortable silence filled the air between them, before Harrow cleared his throat. “Would you mind if I said a few words?”

“It would be an honor, your Highness.”

Harrow took a few steps forward, until he stood at the foot of the freshly tilled earth, head bowed. “Today we mourn for a soul lost in battle, lost far too soon in war. There is nothing left to do but honor the name in silence, and hope the soul lives freely and namelessly on the other side.”

That elegy was only intended for nobles lost in battle--Sarai would’ve questioned his use of it if she hadn’t started crying again, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. _It hurt_ was an understatement when it felt like a bird getting its wings clipped- painful and suffocating and caging all at once. Harrow turned back to her, face falling as he hastily stepped away from the grave. “I’m sorry, I probably went too far. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s not your fault, Prince Harrow,” she said between shaky breaths, wiping away her tears as best as she could. “It was beautiful. I just- it’s hard. All of this is hard.”

Harrow nodded, moving to stand near her again. “I understand,” he said gently. “When my father died-” he paused, grimacing. Sarai appreciated the sentiment, regardless. “It was difficult. I cannot imagine what it’s like to lose a spouse. Thank you for letting me speak, and I will take my leave now, let you mourn in peace.”

“There’s no need,” Sarai said, releasing a quiet sigh, the last of her tears drying. “We have to leave, anyways. It’s getting late, and Callum has to go to bed.” She called out for her son, who ran up to her with another few brightly-colored leaves in his hand.

The young boy peered up at Harrow, uncertain and curious. “Who are you?”

“Callum, that’s-”

“I’m a friend of your father’s,” Harrow interrupted, glancing at Sarai pleadingly. “I came to say my last respects, since I couldn’t make the funeral.”

“Oh,” he said, looking down with a small frown on his face before thrusting a leaf at the prince. “Everyone is very sad when they talk about him. I hope you feel better soon,” he said earnestly.

Harrow took the leaf with a smile, straightening back to his full height to face Sarai again. She was a little taller than him, she noticed. If it weren’t for the situation, she might have even laughed. Instead, she gave him a respectful nod, ushering her son away from his father’s grave. “Sleep well, your Highness.”

“You as well, Captain.”

And Sarai, too caught up in her own thoughts and memories, didn’t even notice the change in title.

* * *

 Seasons passed, flowing like water as Sarai adjusted to a new, but familiar, life. The wound her husband’s loss healed and scarred, leaving her not quite hurting, not quite unchanged- a bird that, while able to fly, doesn't quite remember how. Callum got a little older, lost some of the baby fat on his cheeks, and she grew more and more into the role of Captain of the Crownguard.

It had also been as many seasons since she’d last spoken to the prince. They exchanged pleasantries and respectful nods, but nothing more than that. It was something Sarai didn’t really think about; she was his guard, he was her prince. They didn’t necessarily need to exchange words for them to fulfill their duties.

At least, she didn’t think so, until Harrow approached her on the training grounds, nervously adjusting the spike of dreadlocks he had gathered at the back of his head. “Prince Harrow,” she greeted, saluting him briefly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Harrow cracked an almost smile at the hint of sarcasm in her voice--he was often seen observing the guards’ training sessions. It was nothing unusual to see him wandering the training grounds when he had no lessons or meetings.

“Very funny, Captain,” he said, mirth evident in his voice. “I was wondering if, ah, you would be willing to… train me, a bit, in the art of sword fighting?”

Sarai twirled her spear, resting it in the still-thawing earth next to her feet with a raised eyebrow. Harrow flushed, coughing a little. “I suppose I am able to,” she said offhandedly, tossing her practice spear off to the side. Harrow seemed to release an audible sigh, prompting a laugh from Sarai. “Come on, the swords are in the other field.”

Harrow fell into step next to her, the pair making their way to the neighboring training field in the relative stillness of the morning. “Thank you for agreeing to this. I was afraid you would be too busy.”

“For a request from the prince?” she asked slyly, handing him a wooden practice sword. “Hardly. Besides, my second is an adequate teacher as well. They would have done well teaching you if I had been unable to.”

“Only adequate?” Harrow asked, picking up on her joking tone.

“Of course,” Sarai said with a low laugh. “They still can’t beat me, after all.”

Harrow adjusted his grip on the sword, swallowing hard.

* * *

 The two stumbled into the palace kitchens, sweaty and exhausted from a long day at training in the hot midsummer sun. The kitchen staff, more than used to this, brought them food and drink before tittering away about ‘younglings these days.’

“You’re getting better,” Sarai said after a long drink of water, before flicking some across the bridge of her nose where the water seemed to hiss against sunburnt skin.

“As good as you?” Harrow teased as he smeared some jelly on bread.

“Easy your Highness,” she giggled, stealing a chunk of bread off his plate. “Still some work before you can get there. You’ve only been training for a few months.”

“Fastest improved, though?”

Sarai shrugged nonchalantly, belied by a bright smile as she leaned against the marble counter. “The student is only as good as the teacher.”

“Ah,” Harrow said, gesturing for her to pass the water jug. “I must be the best student in the kingdom, then.”

Sarai took another sip from the water jug against smiling lips before passing it over to him. “I suppose you are.”

He paused, fingers grazing the water jug as he looked at her, something complicated and unfamiliar in his eyes. “Harrow?” she asked, nudging his fingers again.

The prince jumped to life again, grabbing the jug and taking a large enough drink that he almost choked. “Completely fine,” he coughed. “Just ah. Remembered I’m needed in a meeting. Right now. At this very moment. Good-bye.”

Sarai watched him bolt down the hall to his chambers, a fond mix of confusion and mirth pulling a laugh from her. “See you tomorrow!”

* * *

 “Maybe I should start bringing my spear to these,” Sarai grinned, offering a hand to a fallen Harrow. “You almost beat me that time.”

“As your Prince-” he panted, taking her hand gratefully. “I forbid it. Until I win, anyways.”

She laughed, planting her hands on her hips and shaking her head. “And that might be sooner than you think,” she said. “Take five and get some water, your Highness. Let’s see how you fare next round.”

The prince laughed as he left the courtyard, Sarai staying behind with her personal watercloth to talk with some guards that had been trying to get her attention during the training session.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, folding her arms. The guards exchanged a look, quickly shaking their heads.

“Not at all, Captain,” the shorter of the two said. “We just wanted to share our congratulations. You and the prince work exceptionally well together in training.”

Sarai blinked, looking between the two with furrowed brows. “Excuse me?”

“We meant no disrespect,” the other guard said hurriedly. “I apologize for my partner if they overstepped any bounds. There’s just been some talk around the barracks, and we were unsure how to approach it.”

_What are they_ talking _about?_

And she was nearly about to say as much. Nearly, because Harrow had taken his five minutes and was calling to her again from across the courtyard, and Sarai was so confused by the whole interaction with the guards that she took the excuse.

“It’s, um. No issue,” she said to them, awkwardly returning to her usual training spot with Harrow with a final parting nod.

“What did they want?” he asked in greeting, handing Sarai her practice sword.

“I don’t have any idea,” she admitted, which brought a chuckle out of Harrow. “I’m serious! They said congratulations on us… training together? The whole conversation was just confusing. Stop laughing!”

He didn’t, and it only served to pull Sarai into a fit of laughter as well.

“All due respect, your Highness,” she said, wiping away tears. “But you are a _menace_.”

“Why thank you, Captain,” he grinned. “You have no idea how often nursemaids and castle staff would call me that when I was a teenager. Viren and I never made their lives easy.”

“For some reason, I don’t find that particularly hard to believe,” Sarai teased. “You seem too well-behaved now to not have had rebellious teenage years.”

“And rebellious they were,” he said, voice a perfect picture of mock seriousness. “However, before I go down the long and prank-riddled road of my youth, I believe you owe me another few rounds?”

“If I must,” she sighed, a smile still flitting around the corners of her eyes. “But you owe me at least three stories afterward, or I’m asking Viren instead.”

Harrow gasped in over-exaggerated outrage, raising his practice sword. “Your betrayal wounds me, Sarai.”

She just grinned, making a ‘come hither’ motion to kickstart the spar because she _knew_ that Harrow loved to take the bait. And take it he did, swinging his sword out in a wide arc, an easy shot at her midsection. She blocked, dancing back on her toes before she lashed forward with her sword, no holds barred. Harrow dodged, a quick rotation bringing him closer to her. She tried to duck under his arm, but only succeeded in leaving her flank open. He nearly knocked her sword from her hands, the only thing keeping her in the match being a quick thinking and a drop to the ground to roll away from him. Sarai was barely on her feet in time to parry Harrow’s next swing.

They danced around each other, Harrow pushing in while she tried to draw them back out. He fought close-quarters, a mark of a good swordsman--but Sarai, at the end of the day, was far more skilled with her spear than with a sword.

“I win,” Harrow panted, holding a practice sword to the throat of a fallen Sarai, a simple misstep costing her the match.

But she couldn't bring herself to care, because the misstep also pushed her over the precipice of a slope she'd been climbing for a long, long time, and she fell hard. She dropped over the edge and into molten brown eyes, a pleased smile making them shine, glowing brighter than the sun. Harrow's eyes crinkled at the corners as he offered a hand to her, and any air she had was knocked from her lungs all over again.

“Oh,” she breathed, too caught up in his silhouette to say much else.

“Oh,” she said as she fell in love, a damaged bird in a rusty cage opening its wings to fly once more.

* * *

  _"i'll see you on the other side."_

 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed! this was my first stab at harrai so if theres any glaring mistakes feel free to let me know in the comments, and as usual check out my tumblr and some of my other works if you want to see more of me!
> 
> im not going to promise a chapter of hlfx because the sat is next week and i haven't done Any prep but hopefully ill get some done the next week


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